


Of duty, love, and less glorious things

by Al_D_Baran



Series: Dark Voltron Fics [6]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Angst with a Happy Ending, Betaed, Blade Of Marmora (Voltron) - Freeform, Body Worship, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Breastfeeding, Concubines, Cunnilingus, Dirty Talk, Dubious Consent, Extremely Dubious Consent, Galra Empire, Galra Keith (Voltron), Gender Roles, Internalized Victim Blaming, Knotting, Lactation, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Mommy Kink, Mpreg, Omega Shiro (Voltron), Oral Sex, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Parent/Child Incest, Possessive Keith (Voltron), Possessive Shiro (Voltron), Pregnancy, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Sexism, Ultimately Unhealthy but still Loving Relationships cause were in a Fucked Up Situation, eventual sheith, koli takes None Of That, the fact theres no mommy kink tag still is still sexism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-08
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-15 08:24:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13609419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Al_D_Baran/pseuds/Al_D_Baran
Summary: Shiro loves his baby, baby.(in which omega shiro, a prisoner, gives birth to keithand, through a wounded mind and the need to protecthis son, causes their relationship to become unhealthilyco-dependant, eventually making them end up in a muchmore than filial relationship – but as long as keith is happy...)"He’s a prisoner again. Concubine is a fancy title to keep him somewhere he won’t be a problem to the Blade, somewhere he won’t anger Kolivan’s already wounded mate. A sentiment of loneliness fills him to the brim and he moves to the living room area, sinking in the pillows of the couch. The hologram opens to the news, domestic, familiar.He looks at the emptiness of space outside the window and touches his belly again.“It’s just you and me, uh, buddy?” he tells his still flat tummy, voice tight. “Just you and me.”"





	1. agápe

**Author's Note:**

> i decided i should do as worse as i can do and uh that was it thanks.  
> koliro is just for this chapter as soon as chapter 2 rolls out we'll have some sheith. i guess.  
> also this just proves i update once a month so see u guys in a month lol  
> EDIT: yanna gracefully edited my mess :'D

 

> ""but tell me you love this, tell me you’re not miserable.""  
>  — Richard Siken, from “Seaside Improvisation”

 

The interrogation just seems to go on for hours on end. They've just pulled him out of the Galras' cruel clutches and already, Shiro misses the non-existent comfort of his old cell, as clammy and as cold as it was, no angry Beta screamed at him in it. Well, at least not for... he's lost the count. It feels like it has been at least a dozen of hours.

"I don't know anything," Shiro assures again, close to tears from sheer exhaustion. It's been so long and he's thirsty, he just wants to lie down but they won't let him. Why are they treating him like he's a priority Galra? They seem... amused to do that, too. Has he only been passed off to even worse handlers? Won't he ever be able to escape the Galras and not be treated like a spectacle? "I'm just a slave. I heard nothing. Sendak didn't say anything but insults to me."

The Galra still seems doubtful; Shiro despairs. The Beta sighs then leaves the room, leaving him alone with his thoughts for hours.

What next? Shiro wonders. What happens after this? What will happen to him? He's got nothing of value for them. He's just an Omega and Galras treat Omegas like they're children until they die. He remembers how the Empire treats them -- he's seen it first-hand. He had seen the filthy seraglio with dozens of Omegas in them, knowing they were miserable. And with Sendak whispering he'd shove a kit inside him whether he liked it or not, and kill it in front of him before fucking a new one inside him... the Coliseum seemed like a better option.

Shiro doesn't think they'll throw him into deadly dog fights here.

Another Beta comes in hours later when he's about to doze off. It's a woman this time, chubby and homely, placing a bowl of porridge in front of him before fleeing as quick as she had come. It tastes bland but it's the best thing he's had in months. It's incomparable to the ashen-jelly he was served as a gladiator. It tasted of cigarettes ashes and felt like old jell-o on the tongue, dry outside and chewy inside.

More hours pass again. Shiro worries, biting the inside of his cheeks as he stares at the tiny slit at the top of the door, hoping to perhaps see a pair of eyes into it. Friendly, angry... it hardly matters when the room is so silent and it feels like he's been in this chair for nearly a day. He's anxious to be forgotten, tied to a less then comfortable chair, as these Rebels try to decide if he will be useful or not.

Worth feeding or not, a little voice implies in his head. He tries to ignore it, batting away at air from his free hand.

Shiro's not sure how long has passed when an imposing Alpha enters the chilly cell, startling him out of the light sleep he's not sure when he's fallen into. The first thing he notices about him is the potent smell of Alpha, of power and domination. Shiro shivers, choking on it, nose overloaded in just a little whiff. He's too tired to resist the urge to bare his neck, to show submission, to be the good Omega that has been beaten into him by Sendak. It feels like it'll stay forever, a grim and invisible scar, that will always remind him of the cruel Alpha's roughhousing.

The Alpha seems unfazed by his display.

"Stop this, Champion, " he orders. "This is unworthy of you." Shiro lowers his chin like the Alpha would have yanked it down himself. He smells pleased -- Shiro tries not to squirm. "I'm not here to threaten you. My name is Kolivan."

The Alpha seems relatively older than most Galras he's seen yet -- it's no wonder he's considered the chief from what Shiro can tell. Truth be told, Shiro doesn't think he's ever seen a Galra that looked as old as Kolivan, even if he only feels middle-aged at best. His fur has paled from age, stricken with old scars. His stature itself demands respect. Even Sendak would be smaller than he is and the Commander was immense, even for a Galra.

"Excuse the behaviour of my young soldiers," he says, sounding genuine in the apology. "I couldn't come and meet you earlier. I didn't expect them to conduct this interview so poorly." Or without him, Shiro reads in his contrite expression. "We don't consider you an enemy. Be assured there will be punishments for the unfair way you have been treated, Champion."

He feels sick just to hear the name.

"Call me Shiro," he says hurriedly. "And it's... fine," he says, a little out of habit, even though it's not -- but with Kolivan around, he can feel his suffering is about to be over. The Alpha smells powerful, nearly all-mighty. Shiro feels his mind cloud against his own will. He wants to do good for the Alpha, for him to stay pleased and keep these dangerous teeth away of his tender throat. It's an oddly childish feeling, probably due to the Alpha's age. It makes him want to whine and curl in his embrace, much like he did as a child with his Papa and his grandfather.

"You really... know nothing? Even the smallest thing could be important," Kolivan asks, almost carefully. His nose is pinched, as if he's smelling something unpleasant. Shiro cowers a little more.

"No, Si -- Commander?" he tries, looking at the Galra for approval. Shiro feels a little warm. Maybe he's eaten too much, too fast.

"Sir will suffice," Kolivan adds, hands joined tightly on the table. Shiro can even distinguish his knuckles under the light fur.

Shiro notices then how Kolivan's nostrils are flared. He feels dizzier by the second and it's just then that he notices. He's soaked. Soaked right through his pants and making a mess under himself. So... this was why Kolivan looks so displeased. Shiro tries to apologise but only moans, mind blurring again in a mess of warmth and arousal.

Shiro moans again when Kolivan coughs, gripping the table between them.

"You're in heat," he states, as if it was impossible, contained arousal seeping through his words and tightly squeezed jaws. It's impossible, it should be -- but it's been so long and the meagre meals he had here were the best in months and it's the first time he feels even a little safe. His body just... decided to catch up on the lost time and it had to do it now. Shiro knows Omegas in heat are always kept away from Alphas and furthermore, Omegas themselves.

He wonders, without being able to help it, how Kolivan's big cock is behind that shapeless armour. Probably as gigantic as he is -- Shiro feels like he's gaping and needs something to fill him up as he thinks it. It only arouses him even more.

"I'm sorry," Shiro mewls, rubbing his clothed cunt into the puddle of slick under him, the tight slave jumpsuit hiding nothing of the shave of his genitals, from the hardness of his cock to the shape of his lips, the seam tucked inside them. He rocks again it, loving the roughness of it against his clit, making him a shivering mess. The heat's already killed his logic enough that Shiro can't even care about looking like a foolish mess in that instant, only seeking out pleasure, release, fullness...

Kolivan growls in return, eyes stuck to his immoral display, to his wet and messy crotch. He flips the table out of the way and drags him to the ground with ease, the chains binding Shiro resisting less than a second under the Alpha's powerful grip. Shiro's elated by his strength, almost coming right then. He hears his pants be ripped off before --

_Fuck_.

He's even bigger than any of Shiro's most whimsical fantasies. He feels his pussy, as soaked as it is, burn in pain from the intrusion before the heat turns his brain into begging mush. It’ll feel better later; a little voice assures him. He just need to get used to that inhuman stretch, his body will get used to the Alpha’s prick spearing inside of it. The Commander slams into him with bestial abandon, grunting like an animal behind him. His hands scramble to his hips to pull him to meet each thrust and Shiro can only drag his nails across the cold, smooth floor and take the forceful pace.

“Fuck,” Shiro breathes, the word truncated between two particularly hard thrusts. His entire lower body burns from the pain-pleasure, Kolivan’s beastly noises turning him into a whining, submissive mush under his powerful partner, something he’s never shown to anyone else before.

He’s never – Shiro’s never had the time for sex. His rational mind reminds him this is shabby at best for a first time, horrifying at worst. He can’t think, can’t hold a thought for long enough…

That big cock wrecks his hole mercilessly, pounding against his cervix with each of the fierce snaps of Kolivan’s hips. The Commander moves his hands to the back of his head, gripping his short hair to hold him down, putting him right in his place, below him. Shiro thinks of how the Alpha kickstarted his heat, of how his prick is opening him wider than his body even should be able to, of how a child could lodge itself inside his belly from the inevitable spunk that will fill him up. Somewhere, his mind begs for it to never happen, for that slim chance —

And another part, louder, urges him to reproduce. To have that child grow, how nice it would be, to feel his stomach grow wide with life, to have a sweet little thing coming right from him, made by his own body, loving him unconditionally, smiling, giggling…

He wants it. He’s wanted it as far he remembers, even more after his first heat.

Shiro begs, just once.

“Want your kit, Alpha, please, _Alpha_!”

Kolivan’s knots seals him shut a second later, his cock twitching with each generous spurts of come filling Shiro’s belly. Shiro feels it, running a hand over the bump that abundant come makes inside of him, of all of it pouring through his quivering cervix and right into his uterus. There’s no way he won’t be with child now. Somehow, he’s happy, blissed out from the pleasure and stupefied from the smells, the sensations, the needs his heat makes him feel.

Kolivan pants above him, now no longer the collected leader he was when he entered the room. The Alpha snarls and growls, much like an animal, shoving his nose in the crook of Shiro’s neck. Shiro mewls and croons, wishing to appease the powerful beast above him.

When his knot swells down Kolivan flips them over like Shiro’s a mere sheet of paper then dives right back in. Right into that stretched little hole, now less the virginal little pink rosebud it had been minutes ago, but a whorish slit, gaping and leaking with all the spunk inside of it. It swallows Kolivan’s gargantuan member with ease, like it’s thirsty for more.

And Shiro comes.

 

 

 

He wakes up in a comfortable, heated cell later. The bed he’s in has fresh sheets and blankets. There’s painkillers on the bedside, a pitcher and a glass of water. Shiro’s confused, unsure of what to make of the new situation. Was everything a dream? Did he fall asleep and just dreamt of the Rebellion's leader’s cock, fucking him multiple times until he passed out?

It… feels fake. It has to be. He was just lonely, Kolivan was the first Alpha to be nice to him in a while… these things happen. Shiro’s had weird wet dreams about nice teachers before, this must be the same thing now.

But… the pain. Shiro pulls the blankets off him, thirsty like he’s not had water in a thousand years, only to be met with the sight of his wrecked hole. The pain registers. Fuck – Kolivan really was immense, much too immense for another specie’s Omega. Shiro feels terror when he notices the dried spunk on his thighs and the still leaking, copious amount of spunk smearing his abused cunt.

What now?

There’s a vile word on his mind he refuses to think of. He – he was in heat. Those things happen. Kolivan… didn’t seem like he wanted to fuck him. And he had liked it. Oh God – Shiro remembers being shoved to the ground, then to the Leader’s laps, used like an oversized toy to pour his come into.

And he had liked it.

So is it… is it –

It’s fucked up, Shiro decides a little too quick, pouring water to splash it on his face. He mustn’t think of all this now, he can’t.

What about a child, he can’t help but think a second later. A child. That was foolish arousal, Shiro knows. He wants children – that much is true, but not like this. With an alien he knows nothing off beside that he was decent to him? So far away from Earth? Without anything insuring the child will have what it needs? No. No, Shiro hopes it doesn’t take.

(Even if, he knows, logically, that the chances of that are impossibly slim.)

Kolivan enters the room a little later, when Shiro has washed and dressed. Shiro knows he smells of distress and Kolivan smells… of guilt. His ears are downcast even when his body is as stiff as it was before, the Alpha keeping a more than respectful distance. Shiro feels like cold fish in that moment, like a shabby one-night-stand Kolivan will stick a dollar bill on for the taxi.

“I have to apologise for my behaviour,” Kolivan says, voice even. His hands are hidden. Shiro imagines his knuckles are just as apparent as before. “Taking you… during your heat, at your most vulnerable is a terrible crime. For it, I can only present to you my most sincere apology and hope you will accept it.  I’ve not only slighted you in the vilest way, but also wronged my mate, and I will do anything I can to make it up to both you and her.”

Shiro feels like laughing, somehow. This is all… it all feels impossible. The nice cell, the fresh water, the washed clothes. Kolivan having a mate. It’s… all an elaborate joke, isn’t it?

“You – you were… the smell...” Shiro tries, unsure of what to say. He’s guilty too, he can’t help but think. It was his smell that made Kolivan lose control.

Kolivan snarls. “Don’t think so well of me, Champion. Assault is one of the vilest thing for Galras and if it wasn’t for the Blade needing me alive, I would gladly submit myself to the suitable punishment.” Shiro stares at him. He’d have expected Kolivan to agree, that yes, it was a little of Shiro’s fault. Realizing his own outburst, Kolivan clears his throat, “Smells or not, my lack of self-control was a crime in itself.”

There’s an awkward silence just after. None of them seem to want to think of the inevitable, of the cells that must be multiplying into Shiro’s stomach, of life about to happen inside of him.

“What now?” Shiro asks.

Kolivan stays silent for a moment more, sighing to try to centre himself again. “What will happen now is… we will let you rest here for a moment.” Just to make sure he’s not pregnant. Shiro can’t help but feel like this is useless. “Or we will send you to a refugee centre that takes care of the Omegas saved from the Empire. Or… eventually, send you back to your home planet.”

The tone leaves no discussion. To Kolivan, he’s an Omega and as an Alpha, he knows better what is good for him. Even when he feels guilty of raping him, the man still seems to consider him a child for what his status is worth. He needs someone to protect him, someone to sign his leave from his secure hospital… Kolivan is legally his father in this instant. Shiro feels diminished but swallows his pride.

“Alright,” he just says. Anything will be better than the Empire. The Refugee centres aren’t something he’s heard of, but Shiro can tell he will stick out amongst these Omegas, tortured by the Empire for their fertility in their dwindling populations.

“What about…” Shiro starts, taking a moment to find his words, “What about the… if there’s a child?”

Shiro remembers how Galras feel about abortion. It’s simply murder for them – fitting, when their fertility rates are bringing them to a slow extinction.

Kolivan seems contrite again.

“We’ll see,” he says.

Still holding on to that chance of it not happening, Shiro understands.

He gets it.

Truly.

 

 

 

The first time Shiro sees Kolivan’s mate, it’s when they announce him he’s pregnant. It’s not a big news for him – he’s expected this. And this is the first blood test they’ve ran. He would have been a fool to think it was possible for him to _not_ be pregnant.

He doesn’t know her name but she’s half his age – apparently, a marriage of convenience, or an alliance. She seems in her prime, tight-lipped and stares at him, as if gauging her mate’s mistake. Shiro gets it. He’s the homewrecker, he’s the one who wasn’t smart enough to just… not start pissing slick everywhere.

His mistake feels immense and he brings a hand to his stomach. This isn’t just his own punishment, he thinks, not when there’s something innocent in the middle of it. The female Alpha’s upper lip rises in something like disgust – she’s… is she jealous? Is she barren, like most of her people, and even more Alphas?

The scene feels burlesque.

Kolivan clears his throat, “We can’t… send him away.” He speaks like Shiro’s not even there. The Beta physician looks at him, then Shiro… then to the Alpha mate and back to Kolivan. “It wouldn’t be right for a Galra child to grow up without his people.”

Shiro doesn’t know what to do when the woman just rolls her eyes. Does she think they wanted to sleep together? Does she even care? Shiro knows she feels wronged. Her mate knocked up a stranger, a Galra slave and now… Kolivan is proposing to take care of him. So what now? Will he and the kid be taking the guest room? Will they be allowed at breakfast? Shiro wonders, remembering a book he read in his teenage years, if she’ll take away his child.

He makes his hand a little more obvious, just to spite her.

This isn’t hers. Shiro doesn’t even know what to do with himself but he’s already fiercely protective of that little thing, growing inside him, tiny, precious… He wants it. In that instant, he knows, he’ll cherish that child.

“I… can keep him as concubine,” Kolivan says, as if the words pain him, too. Shiro feels a little ill at the idea of sleeping with him again. “Just… as a title. It’s… going to protect you. And the kit. As… somewhat recognized.” This costs Kolivan. His mate leaves without a word, as if offended and frankly, Shiro understands her. He can’t hate her for this.

“You… won’t take the baby away?” Shiro asks, hating how vulnerable he sounds.

Kolivan flinches at the word baby, as if he didn’t think Shiro would birth a living being. Being pregnant, yes… but not a future parent. Shiro feels judged in his capacities. Does he think him too young? Shiro knows he’s only nineteen but he’ll do his best, it’s the least he can do for the little one growing inside of him.

“I won’t, you have my word,” Kolivan says eventually.

 

 

 

Shiro enters a barren apartment of two rooms the following evening. Kolivan orders weekly visits from the physician to monitor the child’s growth and leaves a tablet for him, requesting Shiro to order as much clothing as he’d like. When the Omega asks for books about Galra pregnancy and parenting and raising a Galra child, he can tell the Alpha is blushing under his fur.

The books are brought before Kolivan even leaves, all from the simple book for soon-to-be mothers to treaties of anatomy and biology. Shiro almost breaks down crying at the sight of books, of paper and things that feel so familiar. In that instant, he misses Earth and stupid harlequin novels he’d pick up for flights from Japan to the United States, to devour and then leave in the airport to a new visitor.

“You can ask for everything you want with this,” Kolivan tells him, showing him how the intercom next to the door works.

And with this, Kolivan leaves.

When Shiro tries to scan his hand for the door to open a moment later, it refuses to open.

Ah.

He’s a prisoner again. Concubine is a fancy title to keep him somewhere he won’t be a problem to the Blade, somewhere he won’t anger Kolivan’s already wounded mate. A sentiment of loneliness fills him to the brim and he moves to the living room area, sinking in the pillows of the couch. The hologram opens to the news, domestic, familiar.

He looks at the emptiness of space outside the window and touches his belly again.

“It’s just you and me, uh, buddy?” he tells his still flat tummy, voice tight. “Just you and me.”


	2. storge

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nothing and no one else in the world matters but Keith.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is way too fucking long.

 

 

> "I want, she said,  
>  a theory that explains  
>  everything.
> 
> Then:
> 
> I want it  
>  to be  _my_  fault  
>  she said  
>  so I can fix it."
> 
> — Louise Glück, from  _Blue Rotunda_

 

 

 

Time ticks by very slowly.

Shiro’s never experienced true boredom until he’s locked to his own device. If he thought Iverson’s classes were of deadly ennui, being alone, once he has entirely devoured the books he’s been offered, is something else.

At first, Galra television was somewhat interesting. It’s all Empire-produced and the news are often cut with a message from Zarkon himself, saying something to fuel the passions of his subjects. If he’s wondered what living in an authoritarian regime was like before, now he knows how television could be.

He orders food from a catalogue and a Beta – he can tell from the smell – will deliver it in the next hour into something that reminds him of a mailbox. He receives clothes he’s asked from Kolivan from the same device. Some days, Shiro will rush to the tiny door in hopes of seeing someone else behind it but only meets the other door’s resounding _bang_ as the messenger shuts it close.

He didn’t expect the loneliness to be so terrible.

Even if she’s everything but warm and friendly, Shiro comes to crave the visits of the physician. She’s professional and cold, uncaring and impersonal, but Shiro just misses the presence of people. To see anyone, anything.

His questions are always answered with vague grunts. Shiro wants to know how the baby is coming along, but… it seems like the Beta is simply doing her duty, one she certainly doesn’t enjoy. Even if she hates him, Shiro feels marginally less imprisoned when he sees her. He’s a prisoner but – he’s… not, is he? There’s the food, the clothes, the warm pillow pit Galras use for beds, the blankets that were delivered to him when Kolivan realised he was furless and couldn’t keep warm.

“From your testosterone level,” the nurse tells him, on the fifth week, “You’ll be having an Alpha. Congratulations.”

Shiro feels giddy and it doesn’t stop even when her voice was as even as if she were only praising him for winning a participation to a lottery.

His head feels blurrier than it even was under the Galras.

Kolivan visits too. He’s stiff and nervous, his eyes glued to Shiro’s growing belly the two times he comes. From what he can gather with the daily information the broadcast offers him, Kolivan comes two times in two months, perfectly spaced visits to the very hour. Shiro expects him on the third month, watches the ticks go by before he jumps to welcome him at the door.

The Alpha offers no comfort but his dutiful care. Shiro feels nervous like he’s readying for a date, even when his stomach is starting to grow heavier and show that there’s a little life growing there. The Galra asks if his nausea has settled, if he is feeling anything worth noting. Kolivan mentions what he had reported to the nurse too. She had offered the Alpha a detailed chart of Shiro’s nausea, the growth of his stomach, any millimetre he gains.

“You don’t have to worry about being… small,” Kolivan says, eyeing for the door when their awkward meeting seems to near its end. Shiro wonders if he means him being three feet shorter than him or the size of his stomach, still nearly flat. “Galra kits are very small.”

“How small?” Shiro asks, even if he knows the answer. He’s measured it before. Galra kits are the size of a few months old kitten, just as furry and sweet too. It’s odd to think what’s developing inside him might look so, well, alien from him.

Kolivan’s eyes narrow. Is he going to call him out? The Alpha sighs and takes his hand in his paw, clawed and rough from warring and aging. Shiro shivers, catching a whiff of the reassuring smell of his kit’s sire.

“As big as your hand. No more.”

But he’d grow fast.

The loneliness is so omnipresent that Shiro stars speaking to his stomach. Especially when it becomes bigger, he starts petting the swell of a tiny life inside of him and speaks.

He asks his kit what he should have for dinner.

What he should watch to relax and get some rest.

He sings his kit lullabies, so many lullabies.

He doesn’t know the gender – so he settles on a neutral name already. Akira, like his grandfather.

The name calms him down. He’s not sure why – maybe it’s just to have concretised the fact _something_ is growing inside him, a person worthy of a name. It feels real now.

Shiro is ecstatic when he feels the first kicks. He praises his child for growing so well and strong. Akira doesn’t kick often, only when Shiro’s nervous – he notices it only happens after the timid butterfly-flutters inside of him, as if Akira was telling him that he was there, that there was nothing to worry about. They’re a sweet, tender little one and Shiro can’t wait to be able to hold them, to know them and cherish them. The physician seems surprised of his affection for his unborn kit.

“You really love this child?” she dares asking one day, when the visits have turned daily, and he can barely move from how swollen his feet are; how big his stomach is. She’s showing another facet than her professional distance and Shiro can’t help but feel giddy for a split second.

Shiro stares at her, unsure of what to make of the question. He only understands when she leaves later. She’s surprised because of how the kit was conceived. Kolivan did say that he should have been punished greatly for what he’s done to him. Shiro… tries not to think about it. Yes, Akira wasn’t made from a loving, ideal coupling. Shiro remembers the bruises he’s had all over him, the dull throb of the stretch Kolivan’s thick virility left between his thighs.

The marks of claws, of fangs.

It should matter, Shiro thinks. When he does, he feels himself tipping over the edge of something deep and awful and he can’t even bring himself to look down. No, no – he can’t think of his kit like this. He can’t think of it at all. He has _nothing_ but his kit. Shiro knows he won’t have more than them, he won’t be granted anything else but parenthood now. He’s nothing but what he can produce and Shiro can’t think of anything else.

What does the physician think of him beside a poor, hopeless victim? A homewrecker? Even if Kolivan says it wasn’t his fault, Shiro notices the awkward distance the few Galras he sees put between them. For whatever reason what has happened did, it still broke Kolivan’s union, Shiro can tell.

Akira doesn’t deserve this. He’s just a kit, just a tiny little thing developing inside his stomach. Akira didn’t ask for any of this, didn’t ask to be conceived or born. Shiro remembers the pain of his father leaving with another woman once his mother died, preferring a new family and leaving him with his grandfather. It hurt – it still does. Nothing could make him want to abandon his baby like he was, when he was, by any means, still a baby himself when his grandfather looked at him, eyes pained and sincere, and said that Papa wouldn’t come back.

Who else will be there for him? Who else will be there for Akira? Kolivan doesn’t seem to be interested in more than them being alive and healthy and that’s hardly even a fourth of caring for someone. He has no one else but his child and Shiro knows his child will have only him. Half-Galras aren’t much but second-class citizens for Galras and even here, Shiro fears the prejudice won’t be absent from the Blade’s micro-society.

He’s always wanted children.

This simply isn’t ideal, but he’ll make do, if not for him, then for Akira.

 

 

 

As soon as the contractions start, Shiro’s brought to what he assumes is a private medical suite.

Everything becomes painful and time dilates. He’s sweating, and his lower body feels wrong and askew, the physician straps his feet to uncomfortable stirrups, keeping him open and wide as she monitors the opening of his cervix, prodding him shamelessly as Shiro squeezes the blanket that is supposed to give him intimacy.

“This will take a moment,” the Beta grunts as she steps away.

Shiro closes his eyes.

Please. Just let this be over quicker than she thinks.

 When he turns to a window next to him, Shiro sees both Kolivan and his mate. She’s looking at him harshly, as if she was staring at something greatly unpleasant, jaw tight and nose scrunched. Shiro recoils before flinching from the ever-heightening pain of the contractions. He lowers a hand to his stomach to gently praise his kit, “Come on, Akira… you can do it. Come on… do it for Mama… just come here… I wanna see you so bad…”

Shiro dares a look again. She swallows and looks away.

He finally understands when he sees Kolivan’s subtle impatience, the way he squeezes his fist tirelessly, as if worried. Kolivan wants kits. She’s sterile. In his loss of control, Kolivan gained what he’s wanted. What his mate could not offer him. A child. She looks away first and Shiro pities her, understanding her in this instant, empathizing with her own pain, as the one she wishes were hers makes him cry for relief.

There’s no one to hold his hand or tell him he’s doing well. The physician never seems satisfied with how he pushes and how hard he tries, glaring when he begs for _something_ , he doesn’t know what, he just needs… He doesn’t know.

He forgets when he hears a little cry.

It’s not what he needed a second ago but as soon as he hears it, Shiro doesn’t need anything else.

“There’s Akira,” the physician says, sounding uncharacteristically gentle as she holds the baby, a timidly crying Alpha boy, little hands grasping the air as she lowers him to Shiro’s naked chest. He’s still bloody and dirty but Shiro is too exhausted to care, watching with awe as his folded ears open like a flower and his deep blue and golden eyes blink up to him.

He calms down instantly when Shiro holds him to his chest, staring to purr as soon as Shiro speaks, “Hi, hi, Akira… baby, hi. I – I’m so happy to finally see you…”

Shiro loves the plum tint to his skin, the darkness of his already wild hair. There’s no fur on him but for his cat-like ears, perking up already when he speaks. Shiro doesn’t understand how he could have ever doubted his love even for a split second, not when it pours out of his heart when he looks at him.

“He’s hungry,” the Beta tells him when Shiro stares as Akira smacks his lips. Gentler than before, she shows him how to comfortably hold the kit as the little one latches immediately. “That’s the sign of a healthy boy,” she praises, petting his ear. Akira flicks it off and she only makes a fond giggle.

Shiro’s smile hasn’t left him ever since he’s seen his kit, so beautiful and precious, unable to think of anything else but how he’ll never love anyone or anything as much as he loves him. Akira’s eyes are closed, happy and safe as he feeds with adorable noises of bliss. Shiro only notices Kolivan when the towering Alpha is next to him, his face grimacing with a complex emotion.

“Akira?” He asks and Shiro nods. “An Alpha. That’s a good name.” Kolivan cautiously reaches to touch his head, breathing growing imperceptibly shaky as he feels the powerful purr of his child. Shiro hopes the contact will lead him to want to be there.

Shiro looks to the window. His mate is still there. When he follows Shiro’s stare and realise what he’s looking at, Kolivan pulls his hand away like he’s burned himself on the baby’s delicate head. Akira keeps feeding like nothing is wrong, unaware of his sire’s not-so-secret heartbreak.

“I’m sure you’ll take good care of the kit,” Kolivan says, voice a little tight even when he wills it to be impassive. As if the distance would make it easier.

The physician looks at Kolivan with pity. When the leader reaches the door, his mate walks away briskly and Kolivan follows without a word. Then she turns her eyes to Akira, innocent and oblivious, with a compassion Shiro’s never seen in her.

 

 

 

“How’s the kit?” Kolivan asks on his eighth visit, as if the baby wasn’t in Shiro’s arms, sleeping soundly and pawing at whatever toy he dreams of.

Shiro doesn’t know what to feel. The child is two months old and the consistent visits of the Alpha, now a weekly thing since the birth, feel more like a visit to some sort of agent than anything else. This is his. And yet Kolivan never says Akira. Only “the kit” or “your kit”, never his name. His boy isn’t old enough to understand anything but the safety of his arm and the occasional hunger or discomfort of his soiled diapers, and Shiro already hurts for him.

Concubine is a good title. His kit is recognised as Kolivan's but it’s more of a warning sign than a real protection, like an opened fence with a dangerous dog sign hung to the planks. Akira is protected but it doesn’t mean he’ll have Kolivan’s name, any heirloom, any safety when he dies. Shiro himself, can’t offer anything to his kit. He’s an Omega, a concubine. Kolivan’s mating keeps him safe with the title but he’s legally no more than a child and when Akira will be an adult himself, he’ll be under his protection. Shiro feels a little helpless, unable to do what he should to make things better for his beloved little one.

“He’s good,” Shiro says. “Sleeps a little more than before.”

The first two weeks had been particularly atrocious. Akira woke up every three hours like clockwork, to the very second, punctual. Exhausted from the birth and left alone most of the day if not for the quotidian visits of the nurse to monitor their health, it had been a real test. Yet… Akira is so adorable, even now, when he’s still an avid devourer, Shiro can only feel profound love for him.

“That’s good to hear,” Kolivan says simply. “The kit will grow up to be strong.”

He would. Shiro would make sure of that.

Kolivan leaves him alone again but Shiro has forgotten loneliness. Akira wakes up an hour or so after his sire leaves, a little fussy from what Shiro understands is hunger when he checks his diaper and finds it still clean.

“You glutton,” Shiro teases him, flicking his adorable little nose. Akira lets out what sounds more like the tiniest meow than a baby noise and Shiro must hold a squeal. “You’re too cute, sweetheart.”

Shiro loves the moments he spends with Akira in his arms, drinking, warm in his little onesie and clinging to his breast with his tiny fists. He’s surprisingly gentle and calm. Shiro wasn’t sure what to expect but Akira is a happy, content baby who rarely cries for anything and wants nothing more but to be in his Mama’s arms. Shiro’s not sure he’s ever met such a pleasant baby.

“Kit, uh?” Shiro murmurs, brushing his cheek.

He can’t let him be sad. Can’t let his sweetheart realize that Kolivan can’t be there for him, that his father prefers his duty over what he’s wanted for so long. Shiro doesn’t care that they wouldn’t be a family, feels nothing but sympathy for Kolivan’s situation but he wants Akira to have a father, to have everything he could ever want.

Shiro promises himself to keep him from ever crying.

He sleeps with his kit wrapped in his flesh arm, pressing him to his chest where he can find his tit when he’ll need it. Sometimes, he’ll wake to Akira, settled between his bicep and his swollen breast, nosing his chest for some milk. In these moments, Shiro just brings him closer and watches, astounded that he’s made such a tiny, beautiful thing. There’s no love like this in the world, nothing matters like his beautiful child.

Shiro wonders if he loves him too much when he nearly forgets himself in the process of caring for his babe. A messenger knocks to the mail trap one day.

“Dinner has been passed for two hours,” he says, pushing a tray of food closer, the one Shiro orders most often. “Our leader has asked the kitchen to make this for you. Seemed worried.” His eyes are kept to Akira as the baby looks at him curiously, amazed to see someone else than the nurse and Kolivan. “That’s the kit?”

Shiro turns him to press Akira’d head to his shoulder when he notices the Beta’s inquisitive eyes, like he would be looking at a train crash he can’t keep his eyes off. Like they’re a morbid attraction. He doesn’t even say a word when he shuts the door angrily.

Akira starts crying at the loud noise, startled at his mother’s anger. Shiro crumbles and moves to rock him, like he hopes would calm him down. “Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, voice tight with pain and guilt. No, no! How dare he scare him? He’s supposed to protect Akira and there he is, making him cry. Shiro feels tears bubble up his throat, questioning his very ability as a parent, when he thought he was doing well these last three months.

“Shh, shh,” Shiro tries, caressing, petting, touching and kissing, trying everything he can think of to soothe the tears of his beloved little kit.

Akira eventually calms down with the outpour of love, looking up to him with dewy eyes, letting out heartbreaking hiccups. Shiro kisses his forehead. “I’m so sorry. Mommy’s sorry – ah…” The kit pulls at his button shirt, whining a little. “You want milk?” Shiro asks, even as he’s aware Akira is much too young to answer him.

There’s another, quiet sob. Shiro hurries to pull the buttons out of the way, ripping one out in the process to bring his son to his breast, leaking from the cries. Akira never cries of hunger, but his body seems to know what the boy needs. This will settle him. He latches, a little rougher than usual, as if still upset from his fight.

Shiro hisses from the pulling sensation and shushes him again, petting the boy’s feather-soft hair. “Shh, shh. Mommy’s here,” he promises, leaning down to kiss his little ears, still flattened to his head. “Is that what you needed, baby? Feels better now?”

Akira starts to purr slowly, growing louder as he calms down, soothed by both his mother’s presence and the warmth of his milk. Shiro smiles, petting his still wet cheek. There’s little drops of tears clinging to his eyelashes still. His heart stings from guilt when he looks at it and Shiro knows he’s in over his head.

He loves Akira so, so dearly. He‘ll be the death of him

It’s not strange at all, but Shiro doesn’t mind.

 

 

 

Kolivan’s visits eventually space out to become monthly again.

The kit never becomes Akira to him. The distance grows. Shiro hurts more and more as his kit’s sire goes farther, farther and farther away.

He remembers his father leaving, with someone else who would give him new children, ones that weren’t reminding him of his mistakes.

The need to protect Akira is so strong, Shiro bows to Kolivan, just for this second time. When Akira is six months old, Shiro calls him Keith during his visit. He refuses to touch him. To look more than he should.

“And what about…” Kolivan won’t even say it.

“Akira? It’s still his name.” Shiro looks at his sweet little Keith, playing with a noisy toy, sitting on his mother’s laps. “Keith’s a nickname.”

Keith was beautiful, too.

From what Shiro remembered, it meant something like warrior.

He hoped it would make Keith grow with strength.

 

 

 

Keith grows up too fast for Shiro’s liking. It feels like days ago, he was holding a baby that was much too tiny for a human, and now, there’s a babbling toddler in his arms, one who refuses to let go of him and walk on his own, which Shiro doesn’t mind. He knows Keith will grow up in a blink and he wants to relish in the time he has when his baby is still small enough he can hold him.

Keith’s life isn’t much but Shiro’s arms, the cartoons he loves and the toys he prefers. There’s his favourite plushie, Red, a lion that Shiro asked Kolivan to buy for the kit.

“He has so many toys already,” Kolivan had said, sounding uncomfortable.

It’s already a disaster for Kolivan. Spoiling one's bastard is perceived as terrible but Shiro can’t care for the leader’s reputation too much.

“Does he? He’d be happy to have it,” Shiro had answered, leaving nothing for discussion in the tone. “If you want to come back, he needs that toy.”

Red is there the next morning, just an hour before dinner.

Shiro used that technique multiple times. Using Kolivan’s guilt against him is dirty but Shiro can’t care. Keith deserves to be happy and if he has to metaphorically pull his sire’s arms against his back, then he will. The kit drags Red everywhere, holding her in his arms and Shiro needs to answer to her when Keith says she said something.

“Mommy, Red said we should eat this, one,” Keith says this morning, pointing to his favourite food.

“Does she?” Shiro asks mischievously. “Or do _you_ say that? It’s your favourite!” he accuses tickling the boy’s chubby belly.

Keith lets out a shrieking laughter, begging for Shiro to stop when he pulls his shirt up to blow raspberries on his stomach. Keith’s tail slaps his cheeks as the boy wriggles his way out of his hold, fleeing under the couch with Red’s butt sticking out of it, too fat with stuffing to follow the kit under it.

“Mommy’s being weird again!”

Keith is giggling without being able to stop. Shiro takes a second to ask for their breakfast before he walks to the couch, playfully patting all around Keith, as if he can’t see his little hand holding Red’s paw.

“Mmmh… where did my little sweetheart go?” Shiro muses, ruffling Keith’s hair as he still pretends not to know where his boy is.

The door opens as they play. Shiro frowns, since it’s not the time for either the nurse or Kolivan to come, frowning even more when the Alpha walks in, looking at their domestic display with the same stiff pinched lips as usual.

Something’s wrong from the sour quality of his smell. Shiro stands up, seeing the way Keith’s eyes shine like a cat’s in the penumbra from his peripheral vision. “Kolivan,” Shiro says, ruffling Keith’s hair as the boy crawls out from where he hides, clinging to his mother’s leg. The boy is always uncomfortable when Kolivan stares at him.

“It looks like he’s sad, Mommy,” Keith told him once, looking impossibly upset himself at the idea of the weird, big Alpha that comes in their house sometimes being sad. “Why is he sad?”

Keith’s heart was too big for himself, Shiro thought then. The poor little thing. “He doesn’t have what he wants,” Shiro explained, rubbing soothing circles on his back. “And he can’t have it. That’s why he’s sad.”

The Alpha seems contrite. Shiro can tell the smell makes Keith upset. Shiro picks him up, drawing a judgemental stare from the kit’s father but Kolivan keeps himself from commenting, knowing Shiro will just tell him off. Keith wraps his arms around Shiro’s neck, purring softly to soothe himself. Shiro pets his shoulders to help that, expecting Kolivan to be honest and straight to the point.

“It’s time the kit starts school,” Kolivan announces. Direct. Like he’s ripping off a band-aid.

Shiro feels his stomach drops. He remembers the loneliness and he squeezes Keith, ruining his efforts to soothe him when the kit turns to look at him, then Kolivan.

“School?” Shiro knows. Military school. Kolivan wants to make a soldier out of his baby – he’s an Alpha, it’s the Blade’s law. He needs to learn to fight. The idea of his little boy, in something as gruesome as a battle makes Shiro shake in anger. He can’t even stop when he hears a little _Mommy?_ next to his ear.

“Yes, school. It’s mandatory.”

Shiro snarls, “You can’t do this. He’s too small.”

Kolivan stands his ground, “Don’t let your hormones take control of you, Shiro.”

Oh. _His hormones_. Now that’s a fun one. Shiro grits his teeth, holding Keith a little tighter. “He’s still too small. He’s not even half the size of other Alpha kits. Leave him a year to grow a little more.”

Kolivan takes a few second more than he usually would have to gather his thoughts. Shiro watches him, desperate, hoping that it means the Alpha will relent but he only uses the silence to steel his resolve, “The kit will go to school. It’s only about five hours a day. You’ll survive to this. He’ll be fine.”

No, Keith won’t be fine. Shiro keeps himself from talking about how halflings are treated in front of his boy, who clings to him while looking between his parents worriedly. Why are they fighting? There’s no way Keith understands what they’re saying.

He does, only a little, starting to cry as his lower lip starts to tremble, “I don’t wanna leave Mommy!” It only takes the words for the boy to cry openly now, one fist pulling on the collar of his mother’s shirt and the other hiding his eyes as he sobs and wails. “Please don’t make me leave my Mommy, Koli! I don’t want to go! I want to stay with Mommy!”

Shiro glares before turning to his precious child, rocking him with gentle shushes. It doesn’t help when the boy keeps begging to be able to stay, convinced school must mean he’ll leave forever if his beloved mommy is so upset. “You’re not going to go anywhere,” Shiro assures with a kiss to his temple, watching Kolivan’s awkward stance as the Alpha understands he’s made Keith cry. And that Shiro will never forgive that.

“It’s… you won’t leave your mother, Keith.” Hearing his name makes the boy perk up a little, still breathing shakily through his tears. “It’s just a little bit of time during the day. Just five days a week. You’ll come back every day so there’s nothing to worry about.”

Why won’t he understand? Shiro despairs again, squeezing Keith tight against his chest. The boy relaxes a little when he’s assured he won’t be leaving his mother, holding to his neck still as Shiro wipes his cheeks and kisses them to chase the boy’s distress. Being told he’s not leaving forever and this is only for a little time each day calms him down.

Shiro hesitates. He’s always loved school and Keith is also an avid learner, requesting books to be read and to know what Shiro reads, asking explanations and eager to know more and nothing ever seems to be enough. He knows Keith would thrive as a student with a competent teacher. Still, the idea of leaving him alone with people he doesn’t know, people he’s never seen, who believe half-Galras are nothing but a waste of genes... Who believe that full-blooded Galras are higher in the hierarchy, that this way to think is rightful and it’s how it should be...

“Do you want to go?” Shiro asks gently, trying not to sound like he feels as if Kolivan is grabbing Keith and ripping him out of his arms to never bring him back.

Keith stares at them for a little more, laying his head in the crook of Shiro’s neck. He hesitates a moment before he nods, sniffling gently, prompting Shiro to pick a tissue to wipe his nose, trying to keep his heartbreak from showing.

“It starts in two days,” Kolivan says, sounding sheepish. “I’ll have the uniform be sent to you today, so you can dress him up for the occasion.”

Shiro wants to scream that it can’t happen yet, heart snapping in pieces at the idea of watching his baby leave. Keith is too tiny, too young, still smaller than what Shiro expects even a human child to be. But Keith wants to go. Keith wants to go to school and he’ll be a good student, he’ll become a good soldier like Kolivan wants him to be.

“Alright,” Shiro says, throat too tight to say more. Keith clings to him tighter, his tail wrapping lazily around his waist.

On that, Kolivan all but flees out the door, leaving them both alone again. Shiro walks to the couch, holding on tight to his little boy, burying his nose in his hair as he tries to calm down. Keith has his own face pressed to his neck, both arms on each side of his neck.

He needs to make him feel better. Shiro pulls himself together, as hard as it is, and gently peels Keith off him, forcing a smile on his face. “Are you still upset, baby?” At Keith’s nod, Shiro pulls him close to rock him. “Don’t worry. You’re a smart little kitty; you’ll be good in school. You know, mommy was a tutor in his school before he went to space. I can help you.”

 Keith nods timidly, holding on Red as he sits in the crook of his elbow, sniffling softly. Shiro knows it’ll be even harder for his kit than it is for him, since his sweet little boy has never seen outside at all. It feels like Keith can’t be soothed and Shiro brings him closer, opening the buttons of his shirt with one hand.

“I know you’re sad, sweetie. It’s alright to be – but would that help you feel better?”

Keith’s eyes light up, if only a little, at the sight of Shiro’s bare chest, keeping Red in his other arm as he uses one to hold on his mother’s waist. He nods again, opening his little mouth to latch carefully, mindful of his sharper teeth, eyes closing as he starts to drink, mouthful after mouthful.

Shiro relaxes as Keith does, turning pliant and purring softly in his arms. There it is. No more tears, no more sadness.

He’s never been able to stop. Ever since Keith was the smallest baby, Shiro has used milk to soothe him when he was upset or anxious. It’s an odd crutch but Keith likes it and so does he. A voice tells him it’s abnormal but a louder one reminds him he needs to protect Keith, make him feel safe and happy. Each tear is a failure, and this is natural, there’s nothing _wrong_ with it.

“There you go baby,” Shiro coaxes him, combing the boy’s long hair, still silky as when he was just born. “Take as much as you need. Mommy’s here. He’s never letting go of you.”

Keith makes a little mewl, sucking sleepily as the warm milk sits in his tummy. He only makes a little protest as Shiro turns him over when his lax hands let go of Red, reaching out to his favourite toy. Shiro puts her in his arm again, prompting Keith to drink from his other full teat.

 It’s calm. It feels good.

Shiro himself feels a little sleepy, watching Keith with more love he thought he even had for Keith – even though he feels it’s endless, he always surprises himself with more affection, more tenderness. It’s like endlessness seems to grow more and more, an incomprehensible number, abstract and intangible. There’s nothing but Keith in his heart and mind and there is, for sure, no space for anything or anyone else.

Just his baby.

Shiro kisses his forehead as Keith pulls away, full and licking his lips to get every drop of it. He’s still purring gently, ears straight as he snuggles in his mother’s embrace. Shiro picks a blanket to cover him, scratching behind his cat-like, too big ears.

“Feels better?” he murmurs, earning a sign of approval a few seconds later as he falls asleep. Keith’s hands are still holding his shirt tight, like he’s scared he will abandon him if he lets go. Shiro doesn’t even dare move to button himself up, ears growing a little red from his shameful appearance.

Keith sleeps for most of the afternoon and Shiro lets him, enjoying having his sweetheart napping in his arms. Kolivan has complained about Keith not using his bedroom and sleeping with Shiro but what can he say? Keith has nightmares and even Shiro feels calmer when he has Keith around.

The nightmares, he must admit to himself, are certainly the biggest reason why Keith hasn’t stopped nursing. He’s an anxious little boy, a little fearful without his mommy around. Keith fears the darkness and Shiro keeps a nightlight for him, to make sure he feels safe.

There’s no place safer than his mother’s arms.

In that instant, Shiro misses his own and remembers, fuzzy and soft like a dream, how she would hold him like this. And how, when he’d be wrapped in the cocoon of her singing and her arms, it felt like not even the Devil could come and hurt him.

 

 

 

It’s only two days but it feels like two hours. Keith has a nightmare each night and Shiro cradles him, all too aware of his anxiety and his own. He thinks of catastrophes all day long, of Keith being hurt or bullied, of his teacher looking at him with pity.

What have other parents told their kids? What did they say when they thought they weren’t listening? Is Keith going to be accepted? Will any of those kits be willing to be his friend? Shiro feels that terrible helplessness again, knowing he can’t leave and inspect this new place, can’t accompany him there.

He asks Kolivan to come with Keith, no matter how bad the repercussions of the Leader bringing his bastard to school could be. It turns to begging before the man can even answer, with Shiro crying as he dissolves in a mess of worries and sobs.

“Please, please, do it for your son,” Shiro wails when Keith is asleep in his room, hyperventilating in the receiver of the intercom. It’s always _his_ son – Shiro’s son. It’s never Kolivan’s or worse… theirs. Keith is never going to have two parents and Shiro accepts that, he doesn’t even know Kolivan is his father. They’ve agreed, as sad as it is, that it’s better like this.

Kolivan sounds impossibly pained but he accepts, “I will. Don’t worry, Shiro. I’ll keep your baby safe.”

His baby. Not his kit, not his child. But his baby. Kolivan seems to understand how important Keith is to him, how there’s nothing but that little thing in Shiro’s world and room for nothing and no one else.

Shiro’s grateful. More than he is for the house and the protection. Kolivan will protect Keith and this is all that he needs.

It’s bittersweet to see his little boy in the purple uniform, looking much like Shiro did on his school pictures with the sky-blue shirt, navy shorts and yellow hat. He’s adorable and Shiro coos to him, kissing him until Keith laughs and gently tries to push him away.

Breakfast passes. School starts at nine and it’s seven. Keith grows anxious before eight and Shiro holds him close, smelling his boy’s worry. To calm him down, he tries, “Do you want to drink, baby?”

Keith seems eager to do it as soon as Shiro proposes. Shiro wonders if he’s so adorably chubby from the amount of milk he’s been drinking since he was a babe, making his face round and angelic. Keith has always looked like a cherub to him, cheerful and sweet, giggling and wonderfully precious. Kolivan enters when they’ve been done for less than minute and Shiro buttons himself up, earning the rise of the Alpha’s brow, curious but aware he doesn’t deserve answers.

“It’s time, kit,” Kolivan announces, pointedly ignoring Shiro’s crumbling façade. He knows it’s stupid, but he can’t help but feel like Keith will never come back.

“Can I bring Red?” Keith asks, holding his lion tightly still.

Kolivan hesitates, obviously not used to dealing with an antsy child. He turns to Shiro, as if to confirm what he should do before agreeing, “Yes. Just for today.”

Keith nods. Shiro kneels to kiss him a dozen times, holding him close and letting go with difficulty.

“Have a good day at school, kitty cat,” Shiro says, throat squeezing the words.

Keith hugs his legs when he stands up. “Don’t be sad, mommy. I’m gonna come back soon. You won’t be alone for long.”

Smart kid, Shiro thinks with a self-depreciating laugh. He should have known Keith would be perceptive. Is it his smell? Or does Keith know him already, for having lived with him twenty-four-seven for the three years of his life?

“I know, honey. I’m just going to miss you a little – a _lot_. I’ll see you when you come back, okay? Be a good boy for me.” Shiro knows Keith will be but he wishes he could say more, speak until they’re late and it’s useless to go.

They leave when Kolivan clears his throat and announces they will be late. And just like that, Shiro finds himself completely alone for the first time in years. The walls close in on him and he can’t breathe, heart hammering in his chest when he pulls away from the door, already crying from the utter silence of their house.

He moves the couch and picks up Keith’s blanket, one with cute, lion-like aliens on it, burrows his face in it and weeps silently. Keith will come back, he’s going to be back soon, Shiro tells himself but he simply can’t stop. The worry and the sensation of that terrifying pit he usually fills with Keith, Keith, Keith comes back.

He can’t think of this.

Can’t think like this.

He must be calm for when Keith comes home. He’s the adult, he’s the _parent_ – he has to be the strong one Keith can lean one and he hasn’t been anything of that recently. His fear, his worry… they shouldn’t matter. He can’t show weakness, not when it might hurt his baby.

It takes him a few hours to pull himself together but Shiro manages to wash his face clean and hide the stench of his panic with cushion perfume. Since Keith is gone, he takes the time to clean up the mess the boy leaves behind himself, putting his toys in the trunk Keith should have put them back in after playing, cleaning the counter. He lets the food that is brought an hour after usual dinnertime in the mailbox, stomach too upset to eat at all.

At some point, he thinks of alcohol and laughs at himself.

He sounds like a desperate, suburban mom who lives for her children.

It’s not quite a lie.

 

 

 

It’s only five hours later but Shiro feels like he’s had time to grow a year older while Keith was gone. As the distinctive sound of the door opening draws him from this torpor, Shiro comes face to face with Keith, at his eye level, in Kolivan’s arms, clutching Red, the big lion missing her left ear and her paw dangling on a thread.

It didn’t go well.

Shiro almost start crying himself when he sees his baby, crying silently in his broken toy’s fur, cheeks red and face snotty. Kolivan all but shoves Keith in his arms and Shiro is readier than ever to welcome his little boy. The safety of his mother’s arms prompts him to start crying openly again, as if the last week hadn’t been full enough of tears already.

“Shhh, shh, baby. Let it out. Mommy’s here. He’s not letting go of you.” He tries to soothe him with gentle caresses but nothing much will do. Keith grips Red with a trembling little hand.

Kolivan’s pain is etched on his face. The kit he’s sworn to keep protected is crying and Shiro looks at him for answer as Keith pours his distress in his arms. The Leader closes his eyes, aware Shiro was right, it was too early, it was a terrible idea.

“The other kits… teased him.”

“Teased him?” Shiro roars, moving to put himself between Keith and Kolivan, instinctively. “Just teased him? Look at the state of his toy!”

Kolivan recoils at Shiro’s aggressiveness. No – the Omega is right. It wasn’t just teasing.

“He’s not like other Galras,” he states.

“He’s not! Of course, he’s not!” Shiro says through gritted tears, not wanting to have this conversation when Keith can hear them say he’s different. That he’s not a Galra. Keith isn’t stupid but Shiro doesn’t want to talk like he’s not there, crying his heart out in his arms. “Him being different doesn’t make this right.”

Kolivan looks down. He’s not good with words.

“We shouldn’t fight like this when he can hear it. He doesn’t need to be part of this,” the Omega growls, feeling his hair rise on his nape. He doesn’t want to deal with Kolivan now – he needs to be there for his son, to soothe him.

Keith perks up at that, looking at Shiro with wet eyes. “Mommy,” he asks with another quick series of hiccups, pulling on his collar to pull himself closer.

“Come back later when he’s napping,” Shiro orders, walking away to the living room to leave Kolivan no choice but to do as he is told.

Unlike what he expected, the Alpha follows him and kneels in front of the couch, earning Keith’s attention. “Can I take Red with me? I can have him be repaired.”

“Red is a girl,” Keith corrects with a little sniffle, holding on her still.

“I see. I can still… have someone fix her. Would you want to? I’ll bring her back tonight.” Keith doesn’t seem to trust Kolivan with the task of repairing his toy, but he seems even more heartbroken when he looks at her. Slowly, the boy hands her to Kolivan, who can pick up the gigantic toy with only one hand, as careful as if he were handling a wounded kitten. “I’ll be very careful with her,” Kolivan promises, looking determined when the kit’s wet, indigo eyes stare up to him.

“Let him nap,” Kolivan says. “I’ll be back to talk later.”

They’re left alone, and Keith turns to press himself to Shiro’s chest, still rocked with gasps as he tries to calm down. Shiro lets him calm down for a moment, soothing him with his scent and his hand in his hair, holding him tightly against his body. Keith’s own smell slowly grows less and less distressed, and once he’s calm, Shiro tries, “It didn’t go well?”

Keith shakes his head.

“Did they say mean things?”

Keith nods shakily, “I got angry.”

Keith isn’t the most patient child. Shiro isn’t quite surprised – his boy has a good sense of justice and Shiro hopes he’s raised him not to let someone walk over him.

“What did they say?”

Keith falls silent then, tears welling up in his eyes again. “They… didn’t say mean things to me,” the boy admits. “I… got angry because… they… they called Mommy means names. They – they said Mommy was a _whore_ and… a…” Keith lets out a high-pitched whine, burying in his mother’s arms a little more. “I… I tried to hit them. I know Mommy say you can’t hit other people, but they were saying… really awful things…”

Oh.

So that was why.

Shiro doesn’t care that these kits’ parents think he’s a whore. He’s been called that just for being an Omega before and he can’t give a single fuck about that. He’s simply _livid_ that these children would say this to Keith, that Keith would have to do the cost of his reputation. In the end, it’s his fault again and Shiro’s old guilt feels fresh anew, like an old wound opening when scratched.

It bleeds.

Shiro almost trips in it but catches himself on time.

He has something he needs to stand up for. He won’t let his child be miserable.

“Oh, baby,” Shiro croons, kissing the crown of his head. “Do you know what that is?”

Keith shakes his head.

“That’s good. You don’t need to know what they were saying, because that’s not true. And it’s not nice to call people that.” Shiro doesn’t know how his voice can be so even, so gentle. Where did this strength come from? Where did that calm come from? Maybe it’s because Keith needs to hold onto him, needs him to be strong, to be there for him. Shiro wants to be. He doesn’t need to know, he just needs it to carry on.

“I, I didn’t think it was. They were lying. Mommy’s not – Mommy’s nice, I love you. You make me feel good,” Keith says, as if he was in the wrong.

Shiro smiles and pinches his cheek, “I know, kitty cat. But you shouldn’t care what they think of me, they’re wrong. They don’t know me, but you do. And that’s what matters. Nobody else but you matters for me, Keith. As long as you’re safe and happy, it’s just what I need. I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

Keith lays his head over his heart, taking in the words.

“I want Mommy to be happy too,” he says, sweetly.

“As long as you are, I will be,” Shiro promises, kissing his cheek. “If you want to, we can make you go to school later. Kolivan wants you to be happy too.”

Keith doesn’t say a word for a long time and Shiro lets him be silent. Keith can have his own thoughts.

“Mommy.” It’s been almost ten minutes.

“Yes, sweetie?”

Keith takes a second more, “Can I have the milk? It makes me feel happy. Mommy’s arms feel good when I drink… feels like there’s only Mommy’s arms and nothing else, just me and Mommy.”

He feels safe, Shiro thinks, elated to know it makes him feel like Shiro hoped it would. It’s said in childish words but that’s what it means. Shiro smiles in relief when he opens his shirt, nodding as he uncovers his chest. “Of course, baby; you can have mommy’s milk whenever you want. It’s there for you. It’ll always be there.”

Keith offers him a shy smile and Shiro just wants to wrap him in a soft cocoon, to keep him away from the cruel reality of the world outside their house. He wants Keith to grow up and be a good Alpha at the same time of wanting him to be his baby forever, to never leave his arms, where he can protect him from any danger.

It’s an odd feeling, heteroclite and confused.

It must be what motherhood feels like.

Keith holds onto his waist this time, latching patiently. Shiro brushes his back, listening to the calming sound of Keith nursing from him. In his arms, he knows his baby is safe, that he’s warm and content.

 

 

 

Kolivan comes back when Shiro has put Keith in his bedroom, wrapping him in his blankets. The boy doesn’t stir when Shiro closes the door behind himself, leaving a crack open so he can hear any noises coming from it and make sure he’ll be there before Keith wakes up.

Kolivan seems contrite.

“I was right,” Shiro says, point blank. He doesn’t want to handle Kolivan with gloves and he doesn’t need to.

“Right about what?” Kolivan returns, pulling a chair to sit down, pinching the bridge of his nose with a long sigh. “He was bullied. He’s half-Galra, half your race.”

“Human.” Shiro won’t let him forget what he is. What they are. Keith is half-human. They’re both human.

Kolivan ignores him to carry on, “He’s never going to be a full Galra. He needs to toughen up or he’s going to be miserable. You coddle him too much. He’s an Alpha – he needs to grow up to be strong.”

“For what?” Shiro wants to scream – he swallows his cries to try to keep his voice down. It’s been difficult to make Keith sleep, even with a belly full of milk and a vast number of cuddles and he doesn’t want to wake him up. After that terrible day, the boy deserves some rest. It doesn’t stop Shiro’s outrage, “For you to send him to the slaughter? He’s going to die fighting for your cause. You want to make him a child soldier!”

“We don’t know if he’ll die,” Kolivan counters harshly. “Don’t be so hormonal.”

“Hormonal?” _Again?_ Shiro just laughs then. “Funny you’d say that. Last time hormones were in charge, you – this is what lead us here.”

Bullseye. Kolivan takes a long breath to centre himself, scent tinting with both anger and shame. That Omega is speaking to him this way and yet… he’s right. Shiro didn’t do anything to be in the situation he’s in. This is all just a long, long series of disasters and regrettable events.

“We don’t know if he’ll survive,” Shiro carries on. “You promised me you wouldn’t take him away. And now this is what you do.”

“And what else can I do?” Kolivan is as pained as he is. “I can’t keep him away forever. I can’t keep him in here. He’s an Alpha. That’s improper.”

“And what about me?”

“We have different cultures,” Kolivan answers after a moment of hesitation, a carefully crafted one he’s given multiple times before, one he seems less and less convinced of. “The reason you’re here is exactly why Omegas shouldn’t be outside their homes. Alphas – as regrettable as it is and _as much as they are responsible of their actions_ , sometimes just can’t control themselves.”

Shiro sneers, “ _You_ would know that.”

“Let’s not argue like children. We both made mistakes, but we need to work together for the kit.”

 _Fine_. Fine, he’s not going to argue like a child when Kolivan might as well be spitting in his face. Shiro boils but tries to soothe himself, thinking of Keith and what his child needs. It comes before his own injustices.

“Let’s say he won’t die. I’ve _been_ through military training on Earth.” He thrived in it. He’s not sure Keith would – he’s such a beautiful kid, with a heart bigger than he is and kinder than Shiro thought a child could ever be. “I know other kids are mean. They’ve ripped his favourite toy. I’m sure he wasn’t the only one with a toy.”

“It’s part of life. One he’ll have to deal with living with his heritage—“

Shiro slams his fists on the table, startling Kolivan into grabbing his knife.

“Do you think that’s fucking fair?” the Omega shouts. “Do you think I can just hear he’s _different_ and he’ll have to deal? That’s my _child_! I had him for nine months inside of me, I fed him, I dress him every day, I wash him, I hold him when he cries… and you ask me to let him suffer like that when I can’t do anything? When it’s going to hurt him? How fucking heartless are you?”

For a moment, there’s just Shiro’s panting. He expects Kolivan to actually attack him, but the Leader sheathes his blade again. Neither of them seems to think the same way, and their problem doesn’t have a middle ground.

“I can’t have him be special around here. It’s – already a dishonour of me to have a bastard, especially one born like and… a halfling.” Shiro doesn’t even want to understand Kolivan’s obvious conflict, the way the Alpha looks away and grips the table as he tries to find the words. “I’ve made mistakes. And the kit has to pay for them, too. It’s… not something I’m happy about, either. If I were to… treat him like a legitimate child, people would talk even more. Favouritism isn’t seen positively in the Blade.”

Shiro drops in the nearest chair, nearly defeated. It’s not like he has a choice in this.

He’s an Omega.

For Kolivan, this is like arguing with a rambunctious child.

They really _do_ have different cultures.

“I don’t think we can agree,” Shiro admits, knowing it’s useless. Kolivan thinks his reputation is still more important than his own child. “But I want you to punish these kids. So they’ll think twice before attacking Keith.”

“I will,” Kolivan agrees. “That’s the least I can do.”

Wasn’t it always what he did?

“And talk to their parents. Tell them that Keith is real person. He’s not just a juicy story.”

If Shiro couldn’t be more than one of the crunchy details of a gossiped scandal, he wouldn’t let Keith be the other one.

Keith could be a person here.

He’d make sure no one would forget that.

 

 

 

The next few weeks become a routine disturbingly quickly.

Keith goes and comes back to school each day, his anxiety lessening somewhat when he seems to have integrated a little. When Keith comes back and excitedly talks about what he’s learned, Shiro is elated and listens to his blabber with great attention. His grades are as high as Shiro could have hoped. Keith is a straight As student and Shiro couldn’t be prouder.

Keith asks to nurse the first two weeks, each day before he leaves and when he comes back without fault, before slowly growing more comfortable in the new environment. He grows more confident and Shiro loves to see it, loves to see his little boy grow up. Each time he comes to miss the ritual, Keith timidly tugs at his shirt, looking up with hopeful eyes.

“I like feeling close to Mommy,” he says, one time, comfortably settled in the crook of his elbow. Shiro melts at that.

Of course, Keith’s regular nightmares won’t stop and Shiro is always ready to pull his shirt up and offer the boy the comfort he needs. It puts Keith back to sleep each time, his eyes dropping closed after just a few sucks.

Shiro’s own anxiety lessens when Keith still wants to share this moment he’s come to think as special, some sort of bonding. It reassures him that his baby loves him, that he wants to be close and that nothing feels safer than his mommy’s embrace.

When the fourth month comes, Shiro asks if Keith made friends.

“I don’t need friends,” Keith says, comfortably lying against his heartbeat. “I have Mommy. I don’t need anyone else but Mommy.”

It should make him sad, even a little, but Shiro can’t help but be elated at the idea.

It’s strange but Shiro doesn’t mind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stay tuned for the smut next time kiddos  
> i've reread the newest parts and uhhh my buddy will probably correct this soonish so sorry if some mistakes escaped by blind ass

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are better than kudos.  
> if you wanna tell me this is bad and awful, consider this: please do it that makes me most moist


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